


The Storm for You I'll Call

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Below The Shore [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pirates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Arthur is a child of the Sea God who finds out his soul mate is not only a mortal--but one who's in danger of being harmed by pirates. So really, it's only natural that he summons a monstrous storm to keep him safe, killing everyone around him in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm for You I'll Call

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! This directly connects with the other fic currently in this series called 'From Ship to Sea'. However, you don't _have_ to read that one, because this does stand alone, but it might clear up a bit of missing infomration if you read it. This is, if you couldn't tell, Arthur's side of the story.
> 
> I wanted to write this mostly because I wanted to go more in depth as to what it was Merlin was feeling inside of him, the weight that was bearing down on his chest that couldn't explain. I put into the tags 'Soulmates', but I wanted to sort of explore the actual connection of it. Basically, most of the pain Merlin was feeling was because Arthur was trying to assure him that he was there. Of course, Merlin didn't register it that way, but it was all meant in good fortune. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this, as I hope you enjoyed the first.

The sea is so _boring_ as of late. 

Arthur listens distractedly to the cry of the gulls, along with the rush of waves through his hair. The sun beats heavily on the water, reflecting brightly back towards the sky. He leans back, floating along the surface, scooping up cool water and lets it drain through his fingers.

_Boring._

The mortals have been awful compliant as of the recent months. The ones who sail the sea have been respectful, fair, and have been giving thanks for safe passage. It's not that Arthur isn't grateful for the sudden change, and that the mortals are finally understanding who it is that rules, it's just rather curious that they're suddenly realizing it now. Mortals have always been foolish, not to mention a little slow, full of non-believers in anything other than themselves.

“You look dreadfully bored,” a voice drawls, interrupting his thoughts. 

Arthur rolls his eyes, the rippling of the water next to him indicating the arrival of the newcomer. “I was, but now that you're here, sister darling, all of my problems, and boredom, mind, are solved,” he says sarcastically. “What do you want, you witch?”

“You are _so_ unbelievably rude. Now I remember why I visit so little,” Morgana huffs, her dark hair and pale skin coming into his line of vision. “I forgot what terrible company you are when you're not out terrorizing humans.” 

Arthur scoffs. “You make it sound like I live to make mortals miserable.”

“You _do_ ,” Morgana says, as if it's obvious. “You don't even call them _humans_ , you call them _mortals_ , as if they're completely beneath you.” 

“They _are_ ,” Arthur argues back. “Come on, what does a petty mortal have over a child of the Sea God?” 

Morgana chooses to ignore the comment, and instead just narrows her eyes in a way that makes Arthur want to drop it. He shuts his mouth, and she cups her hands below the surface. She splashes at him, taking great pleasure in how it makes him yelp, the water now too cold on his partially, sun-dried skin. He hisses at her, dunks his head under, and reemerges, blond locks dripping.

“She-demon,” he snarls, but Morgana just laughs, knowing that he'll do her no harm, and is merely trying to vent anger without drowning her himself. 

Arthur runs wet fingers through his hair. “Is there a particular reason you came to me, or were _you_ so bored that you sought solace in my torment?” 

Morgana frowns, suddenly not looking as carefree as she did moments ago. “I had a dream, earlier. It was...about you.” 

Everyone on the sea knows about her dreams. They're always accurate, true, and they always come to pass. If she sees it, it's bound to happen, no matter what. It can be ten minutes from now, or ten years from now, but it always happens. But Morgana never comes to him with dreams unless they're terrible, and he feels like a weight's been dropped on him. Whatever she's seen, it can't be anything good.

He swallows heavily. “I'm listening.” 

Morgana swirls her hand around in the water, creating a small whirlpool. “I wish I could make sense of it, really. Something bad is going to happen, and soon, I think. There's wreckage everywhere, and screaming—so much screaming. There might be blood, but I couldn't see over the carnage. And a storm, the storm...Gods, Arthur, it's the worst storm I've ever seen...and I think...I think _you_ caused it.” 

“I don't _do_ that, Morgana!” Arthur shakes his head, trying to ignore how scared her voice sounds. “I don't...no, I _can't_ cause storms, Morgana. Only Father can do that. I don't _hurt_ mortals, you know that. I only...scare them a bit. I've never killed anyone. Not on purpose, at least. I can't summon storms, no matter how hard I try. There's not enough power in me to do that. Are you...sure it was me?” 

Her face darkens, cool green eyes meeting his. 

“I saw you, Arthur. You were so angry, like I've never seen you before. There wasn't just a storm outside, there was a storm in you, too, I could see it in your eyes. But what I couldn't see was _why_ , why you were so angry, why you were destroying everything.” 

Arthur clenches his fists, breaking the gaze they shared. “I don't care what you saw,” Arthur bites out, trying to keep himself calm. “I won't let it happen. I won't let myself get that far...or angry. I know now what's coming, maybe I can prevent it...?” he begins, hopefully, not feeling at all confident at her disapproving look. “I'll keep myself under control, I swear it.” 

Morgana raises a hand and presses it to his cheek, a sad look dancing in her eyes. 

“Oh, Arthur,” she whispers, then, surprising him, she pulls him into her arms. “I don't think you'll realize it. What's more, I don't think you'll be able to stop.” 

~~

The sea reeks of death. 

Blood dribbles into the water, and Arthur can taste it on his tongue as he goes to investigate the source. The sharp odor nearly makes him gag as he swims through, cursing himself for not picking up on this sooner. He should've known that peace wouldn't have lasted long. 

Two ships are pulled alongside each other, one longer and more narrow, while the other is clearly prominent and proud. It takes Arthur all of two seconds to figure out one is a pirate ship, while the other is a merchant. 

Arthur is watching in curiosity, knowing that whatever is going on can't be good. What the hell is the narrow ship playing at? His thoughts are interrupted yet again when a body suddenly comes hurdling towards him, plunging into the dark water, blood oozing from his chest. Arthur is no stranger to death, but this is--

_“Will! No, no! No! Let go of me, Let go of me--!”_

The voice of a young boy bursts within his mind, a cry of help, of despair and grief, of desperation. It's wrecked, from the sound of it, clearly the boy is sobbing and begging and pleading and he needs—he needs--

_He needs to help him._

Arthur swims closer, and a sharp tug yanks at his heart. He gasps, clutching at his chest, the pain washing over him suddenly and without warning. The voice infiltrates his mind again. _“Put me down! Put me down, I'd rather die than go with you! Let me go, let go--!”_

He sucks in a breath, and Arthur can feel all of the emotions coursing through him, emotions that aren't his own. They're from the boy, the voice, the one screaming, the one in danger--

A surge of protectiveness seizes him without warning. The boy is _his_ , the boy is _his_ to hold onto, _his_ to care for, _his_ to _love_ , to _protect_ \--

_His_ soul mate. 

The realization sends a slew of commands through his head, taking over completely, the need to retrieve, to nurture, to protect, to protect, to _protect--_

He can feel the connection straining, his soul mate being taken away, away from him, somewhere Arthur can't reach him. No, he can't let this happen, it's his duty, it's his duty to protect his love, to keep him from all harm--

To avenge him. 

Anger pools hot in his stomach. How _dare_ , how _dare_ they try and take him, how _dare_ they hurt what's his, how _dare_ they, _how dare--_

The water begins to sway to his rage, waves rising in sync with his breathing as the ship sails away, the wreckage of the merchant ship littering the sea. 

Arthur feels the sea responding to his desire, the desire to go after, to draw them back and drown them all, rip them apart and make them suffer as _he_ feels, the feeling of having something precious ripped away from you the second you've found it. He watches the pirates run away, not even bothering to own up to the mess they've caused. He narrows his eyes.

He'll make them pay. He'll get his soul mate back, and he'll _kill them all._

He swims after them. 

~~

Arthur lets his heart to reach out, blindly searching for the connection between him and his soul mate, trying to let him know he'll be safe soon enough. 

The storm clouds move in, deep and dark, his mind in a haze of _destroy_ and _preserve_. Thunder claps overhead, but he barely registers it as the rain begins to pour. The ship has stopped moving, docked for a reason he doesn't know, but doesn't care about. All the more easy for him. 

Raising a hand, the waves begin to kick, bending to his will. He swipes his hand, and he grins as the water sprays onto the deck. The men shout in confusion, no storm having been in sight for miles only moments ago, and yet, here one is. 

Arthur pushes the waves towards the hull again, slamming it to a tilt. Men hit the water, screaming as the dark ocean swallows them and their cries. His body is thrumming with the power he holds, this is what they deserve, what they _deserve--_

By his hand, he shifts the water to hurdle into the wooden structure again and again. The sea continues to consume all, thunder roaring, winds sharp and rains heavy. Another wave hits the ship, angling it sideways once more. He repeats it over and over, just letting water soak it, bringing it to its knees, relishing in the screaming and the punishment they all deserve because they took from him--

_“You have to stop!”_

Arthur stills. Stop...? Why would he stop? These men have done wrong, they have tainted _his_ beautiful home, _his_ ocean with their _greed--_

_“Please! You can't kill them!”_

Of course he could kill them, he's a child of the Sea God himself. Who dares to tell him what he can and cannot do?

He floods the deck of the ship completely, the wind howling in his ears. The voice he had heard only quiets for a moment, but they start up again just as quick. 

_“I know you can hear me! Whatever these men have done—they don't deserve this! They do deserve punishment, I agree with that, trust me! But what goes around, well, it comes around! This isn't justice, it's murder! I'm begging you, please stop!”_

The sea is getting out of control, slipping beyond Arthur's grasp. It whips and drowns the ship he's unleashed his rage on, and a large waves spikes against Arthur's command. A scream reaches Arthur from over the noise, and it yanks at his chest.

_No, no! His soul mate—his soul mate--!_

Letting the storm run its rampage, Arthur dives for the fallen boy, where the scream had been produced. He swims around the thrashing ocean, letting his heart lead him where he needs to be.

Arthur spots the figure and rushes to them. His soul mate is little more than a child from the looks of it, barely seventeen, if that. His face is pale, hair as dark as night, reminding him vaguely of Morgana. He's breathtaking in a ridiculous, yet endearing way, alluring and unlike any mortal he's ever seen.

There are metal cuffs around his wrists, and Arthur feels the surge of anger spike again within him. But the anger is quickly quelled when he realizes with horror that he's _drowning--_

He grabs the boy by the arms and pulls him closer. He startles and opens his eyes—beautiful, blue, yet scared—fighting against his touch. Arthur presses his lips to the boy's frantically, thrusting air into his lungs with brittle hope. He tries to convey reassurances as he does so, coaxing him to settle down. After a few seconds, the boy relaxes and looks at him, eyes curious, if not a bit disoriented.

“Hush,” Arthur whispers against his lips, warm and sweet. “Rest, love. I've got you, I've got you.” 

He smiles at him, and the boy's eyes slide shut again. Arthur's heart skips, afraid for a moment that he's lost him, until the sound of the boy's gentle heartbeat reverberates back to him. Pulling him flush against his chest, he wills the sea around him to quiet, that he's got what he's come for, that he's dealt his punishment. He implores the ocean to heed his command, the storm something he summoned, and as it was his power, he _can_ and _will_ take it back.

Slowly, the ocean begins to die down, and the waters begin to steady. He forces the clouds to part, to disperse the rain and thunder, and to be quiet, silent once more. 

The realization of what he's done hits him full force. He pulls himself and his boy to the surface, letting the breeze rustle his wet hair. The boy, still unconscious, lets his head loll to the side, pressing his cheek to Arthur's shoulder. 

Arthur can barely breathe. _He_ caused that storm. _Arthur_ , who was never meant to cause storms, created one over his soul mate. That's what Morgana had said, that he wouldn't be able to stop, that he wouldn't be able to control the anger—and he hadn't. He hadn't been able to stop himself from losing all self-awareness, only thinking of ways to retrieve his soul mate, and to make those who took him pay. He realized his love was in trouble and he had lost it. He feels cold, now, horror and desperation mixing into one in the pit of his stomach. 

The sea gently ebbs and flows, but Arthur can still hear—his father is raging, and he _knows_ , he knows what Arthur has done. Fear grips him, and he pulls his soul mate closer to him, squeezing gently, as if it will bring him solace. 

He ignores the calling and enraged commands of his father, and waits. 

He's found his destiny—he's only lucky if it won't end up being his doom.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
